


Reunion

by jaclynhyde



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Denial, Happy Ending, Other, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-23 17:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17687693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaclynhyde/pseuds/jaclynhyde
Summary: Gilgamesh has nothing to say to Enkidu now. Or so he thinks.





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thimble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thimble/gifts).



> Enjoy your Chocolate Box, thimble—it was a pleasure to write these two! And thank you to my delightful beta vanishinghitchhiker! I fudged the timeline so everyone gets a well-deserved break between Babylonia and Solomon. Spoilers for Babylonia.

 

It wasn't until six months after Uruk fell (after he had nearly gone mad with grief, after he had nearly thrown away his own life desperately searching for immortality) that he dreamed about them, one last time.

Of a figure leaving his bedroom, a trail of green hair streaking behind them like a falling star as they ran.

Foolish, he thought, even as he sat up with heart pounding in his throat. They were dead, they were gone, there was no point to seeing them even in a dream—

Unless, his traitorous heart whispered, it was a vision.

He couldn't ignore that. He couldn't ignore _them._ And so he sprang out of bed, racing after his only friend, after the vivid green of their hair moving ever farther from him. Taking a path they knew so well, through Uruk, out the gates, up, up onto the hill where they first met.

And the figure—clad in the linen shift they had worn that night, when they had first emerged from the forest, stumbled and fell.

 _"Enkidu!"_ He was dreaming, they were already dead, there was no reason for the terror bubbling up inside him—

The figure twisted towards him, finally, eyes meeting his own.

They were not Enkidu's.

Their eyes were violet, filled with tears that he had never seen Enkidu shed. And then—then their eyes widened as blood dripped down their face, their body. Too much blood to be anything but a mortal wound, but Gilgamesh could only focus on what was reflected in their eyes—

Gilgamesh turned to see his city burning.

He ran back, fast as he could, only to find the streets choked with the bodies of the dead. More than had ever lived in Uruk—as many as lived in all of Mesopotamia. And in the sky, the moon vanished behind an impossibly monstrous creature.

The creature looked at him, simply looked, and his legs crumpled under him. And his heart's wild beat—it simply stopped, and did not begin again.  

It was a vision, after all. He would die. His city would die.

Enkidu was gone, well and truly. And Gilgamesh—Gilgamesh was not. He had his kingdom, his people, to watch over for whatever time they had left.

He must plan. He must prepare. He must devote all of his mind and all of his heart to being the king Uruk deserved.

He could spare none of it for one he would never see again.

 

* * *

 

"You...really need a hobby, your Majesty."

Six months later, give or take a few millennia, all he had to devote his time to was the overly-familiar Master hovering over his shoulder. And continuing the fight for humanity, of course—there was never any doubt he'd become a Heroic Spirit to finish the final battle of his life. Still, he hadn't expected the intolerable _downtime._

A king should never be at a loss for what to do.

"What is it you think I'm doing, mongrel?" Peering at the rows of food, he pointed at a sad-looking can of beans. "The expiration date on the spreadsheet is incorrect, by a month. Mark that down."

"Micromanaging is not a hobby!" He looked at her, frowning, until she tapped the correction on her tablet. He magnanimously ignored the roll of her eyes. "Look, Gi—your Majesty, it's really great that you're here. And we can use all the help we can get. But I'm pretty sure Emiya checks the food when he makes dinner. And you just died. Twice! You can just...relax a little. Until everything goes down."

"We're missing a can of cocoa powder," Gilgamesh said. "Make a note to check with the Artorias."

The mongrel didn't even pretend to make a note. "There's some nice spots in the simulator you can check out. Or you could hang out with the other Heroic Spirits—Iskandar won't stop talking about how great your booze is, and Ozymandias always—"  

"I have no need of another _friend,_ Siduri—!" Gilgamesh's mouth snapped shut, just a moment too late.

Well. Clearly this particular task wasn't stimulating enough to prevent him from getting lost in the past.

"You're wasting my time, mongrel. Get out."

"...Yeah. See you later," she said, quietly. She placed the tablet on the shelf and, showing an uncharacteristic amount of self-preservation, left before he could see the pity that was surely in her eyes.

Picking up the tablet, Gilgamesh moved to the next shelf. Spices, then meats, and then perhaps he would check the medical supplies.

 

* * *

 

With a lazy swipe of a finger, Gilgamesh consulted the schedule for the combat simulator. He'd taken it upon himself to reorganize Chaldea's shamefully haphazard training regimen into something worthy of an army. And finally, he could schedule his own training. He could actually keep his combat skills honed here, even if he couldn’t access his true power when he played at being a mage. And his party…Leonidas, Ushiwakamaru, and Benkei. He knew their strengths and weaknesses, after all. It was only sensible.

"Hey, your Majesty." The girl stepped into his room without knocking, heedless of propriety as always. "I’m doing a summoning. Want to be a catalyst?"

Gilgamesh stared at her incredulously. "Why would I wish to participate in the summoning of lesser heroes?" And who would he catalyze? No one—no one he need see.

She shrugged. "Might get someone good. Anyway, I bet you would anti-catalyze Ishtar."

Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes at the girl, who smiled brightly at him. Manipulative little thing. He'd commend her for it when it wasn't himself on the receiving end.

"Very well, mongrel. Do not complain to me when all who would heed your call are too intimidated by the King of Heroes."

"Cool. You coming?"

Scowling, Gilgamesh slipped on his shoes and strode out the door before her.

The Summoning Circle was already set up: Saint Quartz placed in an intricate array around the circle, and the remains of the cake the girl insisted was a catalyst for everyone. On the far side of the circle sat the younger version of himself, already eating a slice. It would be an insult to offer him such an inferior product, anyway.

Naturally, the girl did so. "Help yourself." She moved to the edge of the circle, rubbing her hands together. "Okay, turn on your Golden Rule or whatever—"

"That doesn't—" said the younger him.

"—and think lucky thoughts!" Her brow furrowed, she stepped up to the glowing lines and quietly chanted. Despite himself, his breath quickened as sparks began to circle, forming into three rings—and then sparking further, gold into rainbow into—

A Lancer.

Hardly a particular threat when he wasn't an Archer, then why—why did he feel so—

The glow faded, too slowly, revealing the Heroic Spirit standing in the circle. Green hair flowing over their simple white shift, face impossibly beautiful—

Their eyes opened and met Gilgamesh's.

Eyes that were not violet, but pale. The same eyes he’d met so often in life, that he’d watched close forever.

"Servant, Lancer," they said, eyes not leaving Gilgamesh's. "Enkidu."

His work here was done. He'd catalyzed, just as that mongrel wished, and now there was no need for him to be here. He had plenty of work to do, and little time to devote to the past.

He was certainly not _fleeing_.

 

* * *

 

Not even an hour later, the girl stood outside his door. "Your Majesty?" Gilgamesh was consulting his tablet while lounging on his hard bed—a sorry replacement for the pillows and silks he was used to, but one must make do. She stepped inside, not bothering to wait for his response. "I summoned your, uh, clayfriend."

He—he really must speak to Leonidas about the gaps in the training schedule. Sloppy. "Hmm?" He glanced at her, saw no expression indicating cause for concern. "I'm aware. Good for you."

The girl still stood there. "...and?" Couldn’t she see he was busy?

"And they’ll be an ideal weapon for this battle. If you needed me to tell you that, I’ll revise my opinion of your chances."

"That’s not—" She was biting her lip. Didn't she know how childish it made her look? "Don’t you want to see them?"

Gilgamesh kept his eyes upon the schedule. Yes, he'd have to fit them in, too. Perhaps with El-Melloi. "I have nothing to say to them."

The girl gave an obscene snort. "I can think of a few things—"

"I am _King of Uruk!"_ He was nearly shouting, he realized, but he must make this presumptuous child see— "I am the guardian of my city, not a man bound by what once was. I have no right to speak to them!"

No need. He had no need to speak to them.

She held up her hands. "All right, all right. Sorry I said anything." With that, she left. And Gilgamesh returned to his work, ignoring the gnawing certainty that she would never leave well enough alone.

 

* * *

 

She left _him_ alone, for a few days at least, but the next time he saw her she was talking to—

Enkidu looked at him. When they had first met, their eyes had seemed so inscrutable. Before they had fought, had talked, had taught each other how to be human. Now—now their eyes were calm, and as much of a mystery as they ever had been.

Gilgamesh had been calm, too, when he met the man wearing Enkidu's body. He had mourned his friend long before, after all. But now...it was harder to remember the countenance of a king.

"You aren't listening, are you?" the girl said. He blinked. No matter. They weren't in battle, meaning that mongrel wasn't saying anything worth listening to.

"My apologies," said Enkidu, still looking at Gilgamesh. Like they were solving a puzzle, like there was something they'd forgotten—

Gilgamesh was the first to look away. Not out of discomfort. It was simply...unnecessary. "No."

He could hear her sigh. "Okay." She cleared her throat. "Maybe you guys could train together or something?"

"There's no need, mongrel." After all, he already knew all of their strengths and weaknesses, didn't he?

Enkidu's eyes were on him, he could tell, until they weren't. Good. Had they protested, he might have—

It did not matter. They had not.

   

* * *

 

Gilgamesh was not _pacing._ He was simply exercising his legs without stepping out into the cold. Heroic Spirit or not, the climate here was simply intolerable. Compared to home—to Uruk—it was…lonely, he supposed.   

He was staring into the endless storm when he heard the sound of footsteps drawing closer to him.

It wasn’t—they weren’t familiar. Too heavy. Nor did they sound like an attacker, which meant he could take his time giving the interloper the gift of his attenti—

"So, we meet again!" A hand like a ham hock slapped his back, sending him flying to the ground.

" _Mongrel_ —!" He flung a hand backwards as he pushed himself up, sending the nastiest spells he could think of through the gates.

The King of Conquerors stood there, grinning even as the spells singed his beard. "Of course, you're a Caster now! Well, we'll have to put off our rematch. I wouldn't want to crush you!"

Gilgamesh closed the gates with a scowl. He need not waste his treasures on this idiot. "What is it you're after?"

"I wished to congratulate you, of course! You defeated me quite impressively. And won the Grail, didn't you?"

"That victory does not belong to me, fool. Save your breath."

Iskandar’s laugh boomed through the hallway. "Still not one to make friends? Nevertheless, I will ask if you still have access to that wine. Nothing in this base is fit for a king."

Gilgamesh folded his arms, aiming the full brunt of his irritation at Iskandar. "Subterfuge doesn't suit you. You've come to deliver another message from our Master, haven't you?"

"I hardly need encouragement for a drink!" Iskandar clasped him on the shoulder—he was able to steel himself, this time—before flashing him that irritating grin. "Well? Are you so determined to sulk in your room another night?"

Utterly intolerable. How many times would he be summoned along with this lout? But… It had been some time since he could truly enjoy a drink, he’d admit. "I doubt you will stop bothering me until I offer my hospitality. Very well."

A few minutes later, they sat in Gilgamesh’s room (as he had no desire to see what atrocities Iskandar had committed to his own). Taking a sip of wine, he hummed in satisfaction. There really was no comparison to his treasures.

"As fine as I remembered." Iskandar held out his cup. "A toast! To the victory of your brasher self."

Well. He couldn't really pass up a toast to himself. "To victory." He clinked cups with Iskandar. Perhaps he could team up with Jing Ke to give him a fight—

Of course, Iskandar had to ruin even the briefest of pleasant moments. "I've already given my regards to the chains that bound me in our final battle. The friend you spoke of, I take it?"

Gilgamesh took a deliberate sip, ignoring the way his heartbeat reflexively picked up. "Yes."

"And you haven't sequestered them to your bed?"

"...I am no longer the man who befriended them."

"Huh." Iskandar took a long drink, eyeing Gilgamesh thoughtfully. "So there was only one king at our banquet, after all."

Gilgamesh burst out laughing. "Then you deny your worth compared to the King of Uruk? I cannot blame you—"

"No," said Iskandar, voice solemn. "To be king is to be the most human of them all. To mask your fears by disguising them as kingliness is an insult to your title."

The audacity of this mongrel—! "Some kings have deeper concerns than traipsing around the world picking fights. Some are wise enough to care what they leave behind."

"Wise?" Iskandar shrugged expansively. "Perhaps you were, once. But there is no wisdom in cowering from the happiness that is offered you."

"If they wished for my company they would seek it—"

"As you do not seek theirs? They are but a weapon, they say, as their eyes follow your footsteps. They have no _right."_

What? Gilgamesh had always made it more than clear how much he cared for them, what would make them think—

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Iskandar snapped his fingers before pulling out something wrapped in a napkin. "This is for you." He handed it to Gilgamesh, who unwrapped it to find—

A golden cake, smelling so sweet and familiar he could almost taste it. The texture would be light and fluffy, the taste buttery sweet with a touch of salt, just like the last time Siduri had made it.

Or the first time, when he had offered it to his newfound friend and felt his heart sing at the joy in their eyes.

"Where..."

Iskandar chuckled. "From the nameless Archer, naturally."

"The recipe, mongrel! How did he know—"

"Hmm? He didn’t say. Perhaps he learned it from a coward such as you." Iskandar stood up, stretching. "My thanks for the excellent wine. As for the company, I ask you this. What kind of man maintains a garden he is unwilling to enter?" He left, leaving his empty cup where it sat.

How dare he pass judgement! He did not know what it was to give up that which he loved, for the good of his people.

The people that had been saved. Just enough had been saved. And their king was left with...

Without even thinking about it, Gilgamesh had thumbed over to the simulator schedule. Just as he thought, there was no one scheduled for the next few hours. But...something was telling him to go. Perhaps Clairvoyance. Perhaps the same instinct that made him go to the hill to meet his first friend, to go one last time the night before his death.

There were some treasures that could not be forgotten.

 

* * *

 

The simulator was running already. It took no effort to disable the failsafes, not after all his inspections. Stepping inside, Gilgamesh found—

A forest. Dense, silent, choked with foliage. He could barely see a thing, could hear no sign of a person.

And yet, he could feel someone's presence. A Servant could sense another Servant, of course, but he'd felt this long before he had joined the Throne of Heroes. The sense of danger, of the weapon meant to destroy him, of the being who had looked at him with curiosity and taken his breath away.

Gilgamesh swallowed. "Enkidu," he said, voice as matter-of-fact as if they'd simply taken a wrong turn in the halls of their palace.

Silence.

And a different kind of silence, to the northeast—

Gilgamesh dove out of the way, as clumsy as a civilian, but well enough to ensure the lash of  chains were wrapping around the trunk of a tree rather than his own. Well. He'd do well not to embarass himself now.

With a shout, he called a spell into being, shining words surrounding his opponent, surrounding his friend. And Enkidu, as graceful as always, leapt out of the circle of magic.

"Your technique has changed, king." Enkidu's voice—their voice was quiet, gentle, as sweet as it always had been while their body did what it was made for.

The next whip of chains nicked him in the side—he was _distracted,_ damn them—and Gilgamesh dove behind a tree for cover. "For the good of Uruk, weapon." The forest had always been Enkidu's home, no matter how long they lived in the city, but they had fought here together so many times that he could use it to his advantage, too.

"So." Enkidu stepped towards him, smiling, and the sight brought a sharp pang to his heart. Even now—even after so long— "You have forgotten how to fight me?"

With a shuddering breath, Gilgamesh stepped out. They stood face to face, once more, and he couldn't deny the truth any longer. "Never." With a grin as wild as his younger days, as wild as the day he had first met the body made for him, he _charged._ The swing of his axe did not have the muscle behind it that it once did—but his strength never lay in muscle, anyway.  As the Gates of Babylon opened behind his back, golden staves aiming at his old friend, Gilgamesh shouted. "Melammu Dingir!"

Their battlefield was surrounded, now, by the walls of Uruk, by the defenses answering Gilgamesh's every command. And Enkidu could see, finally see, how Gilgamesh dedicated his life after Enkidu's death, had protected their home.

Enikdu's eyes were shining, looking at the walls with the same wonder as when they delighted in the beauties of nature. "Oh, my friend," they murmured. The same wonder as when they had first met Gilgamesh in battle. And then, just as softly, "Do you truly think any other weapon of yours could destroy this one?"

And as the ballistas fired, Enkidu threw themself to the ground, digging fingers into the clay. "Enuma Elish—!" The bolts hit their mark, as precisely as he'd calculated—but Enkidu was gone. Gilgamesh looked up, bracing himself with as many protective spells as he could—and there, there came the Spear of the Heavens, the weapon made to stop him, to kill him, to own his very heart and soul.

And Enkidu slammed into him like a falling star into the Earth.

The protective runes held—he'd be frankly embarrassed if they didn't—but the pain of impact shuddered through him, as sharp as shot that had ended his life. A good thing they'd met in the simulator—he'd not yet learned to use this class against a truly dangerous opponent.

And then the spear of clay piercing him, the chains holding him, shifted to the familiar form of his friend. The knee on his chest, the hands holding his wrists, pinned him just as thoroughly.

Gilgamesh's lips curled into a smile, the nearest thing to an apology he could manage. "They were no replacement." Enkidu's face, their eyes, their smile, was suddenly all he could see. "I’ve missed you," he confessed. It’d been far too long since he’d said such things aloud.

"They say you are wise now, Gil." Enkidu tapped his bare chest with a slender finger. "I see no evidence of that."

"And what of you? To think you would be so easily tossed aside?"

Enkidu hesitated, then, eyes lowering. "I am but a tool. It is my nature—"

"Fool!" Cupping their face with his palm, he met Enkidu's eyes. "You are my oldest and dearest friend. For as long as we may live, and ever after that, you are _mine_."

"Ah." Enkidu's smile widened. "And you, my friend?" Their knee slipped downward, ever closer to—

"Well. Yes. You know." At Enkidu's peal of laughter, he pushed ineffectively at them. He was really beginning to miss his Archer form. "I expect you to return to my bed."

"I think," said Enkidu, "I will claim my victory here."

And if their reunion threw off the training schedule for the next week...Gilgamesh could honestly say he did not care.


End file.
